


can i just be in my head with you?

by haline



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, Pining, also they share a bed and watch movies, and some angst, and some humor, basically cristina saves emma's life 16 times, canon AU, in more than one way, there's some fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haline/pseuds/haline
Summary: Emma came forward, pulling Cristina behind her. "Everyone, this is Cristina," she said. "She's saved my life about sixteen times this summer, so be nice to her."The one where Emma really hadn't been exaggerating.Or, Emma tries to run from loneliness, and Cristina tries to run from her home. They run directly into each other.





	can i just be in my head with you?

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome! just a quick note, all these 16 stories are set before lady midnight, and the "bonus" story happens during LM, right after the institute is surrounded by the followers of the guardian (basically is what should've happened) Hope you enjoy x

_1._

Emma missed Julian.

She not only missed him, she _felt_ his absence not on the space around her but instead in the depths of her heart. Like a soft ache, a wave of uneasiness that washed over her constantly.

The worst part was she had no one to talk about it.

She had told Diana—though maybe not using the same words, and Diana just said it was what _Parabatai_ felt when they were apart. She had told Cameron, and he’d grumbled something about Emma exaggerating because Julian had only been gone for a few days.

And then she couldn’t tell anyone else, because she had no one else.

And the Institute was so quiet it was disturbing.

She hated being lonely, and she was considering going on a summer-long voyage to Norway when the new girl from Mexico arrived. Emma had been so focused on her own solitude she had nearly forgotten about her, but she doubted New Girl could do anything about the longing she felt in her soul.

Emma had been wrong.

Cristina was kind and funny and polite and she listened to Emma talk about whatever that popped in her mind without questioning it. Cristina was also ridiculously smart and proper, always managing to look pristine no matter the situation.

Diana seemed to like having Cristina around; she had said so herself. But Emma suspected Diana was more interested in the fact that Cristina kept Emma company, and thus Emma wasn’t miserable and brooding during their lessons.

When Cristina politely asked why exactly Emma was dating a boy like Cameron, Emma knew Cristina was going to become her new best friend.

* * *

_2._

“I can’t go on a date with you tonight,” Emma said to her phone. “It’s Cristina’s birthday. Remember her? New girl from abroad.”

“Today is not my birthday,” Cristina said, frowning.

“Yeah, I am absolutely not making this up, you can talk to her yourself.” Emma handed her the phone, and Cristina sighed before taking it. Cristina was the kind of person that smiled tightly when someone annoyed her, and Emma didn’t know if the gesture was directed at her or at Cameron, who was on the other end of the line.

“Hello,” Cristina said. “Yes, it is my birthday. Yes. Yes. Thank you. I will tell her.” She hung up and gave the phone back with a look that was trying but failing to be accusatory. Emma grinned.

“You just saved me from a night of terrible boredom, thank you.”

“You owe me one, I expect a rather good birthday party.”

* * *

_3._

The first time she was in a fight without Julian, she made a mistake.

She _knew_ and she _felt_ his absence in the battlefield, like there was a part of her that was simply missing. Her mind, when it was buzzing with adrenaline, apparently wasn’t aware of that.

Emma had slashed with Cortana at a _Dahak_ demon, not deep enough that it would kill it because she was in the midst of fighting _a lot_ of them, but enough for Julian to finish it off with an arrow. Except that Julian wasn’t there, and when she turned her back to the demon, it lunged at her again.

There was a brief second where Emma was aware that the wounded demon was going to jump on her and knock her to the ground. And she saw herself getting swarmed by the rest in the second it would take her to get up. And then, as if the world had turned into a slow-motion sequence, a butterfly knife ripped through the air and sunk deep enough on the demon’s head to send it reeling back, away from Emma.

The demon was dead before it hit the ground, and Emma found herself back to back with Cristina, who was already wielding another knife in her hand.

“Thanks,” Emma managed to say, breathless, as another demon surged forward. She traced an arc with Cortana and sliced the demon’s body in half.

“You will tell Diana I had nothing to do with this unauthorized mission.”

“Sure thing.”

* * *

_4._

Cristina made a face as soon as she saw the takeout, and it only got worse when she tried it. “These things are _not_ enchiladas, _cuata_.”

“This is the best around here,” Emma said, she shrugged and dug into her food, much to Cristina’s dismay.

A few days later and after a few suspicious trips to the grocery store, Cristina made her sit down in the kitchen as she prepared dinner.

It was an odd sight, because Emma was used to seeing Julian cooking for everyone, and he was the only one who ever used the kitchen. She’d seen him go from messy and clueless to quick and efficient over the years. Jules made meals for his siblings with a lot of care and thought, always keeping in mind what everyone liked and disliked, and he moved around the kitchen with familiarity, he even hummed under his breath when making pancakes.

Cristina moved with determination, but somehow still very aware that she was only a guest there. Emma had only seen her get in the kitchen to make coffee (a lot of coffee), and this new facet of Cristina was—charming, to put it mildly, and a little impressive. Cristina worked with several things on different frying pans at the same time, all while chopping something else or stirring something else.

“Who taught you to cook?” Emma asked, her stomach was already grumbling by just the smell of meat and sauce. She only needed the smell to know this was going to be way better than some takeout.

“I’m not sure,” Cristina said, not looking at Emma, she was giving her undivided attention to whatever she was frying. “My mother, mostly, but I have a lot of aunts and uncles who like to cook, and I learned by watching them. Diego was always the better cook though, and his _chilaquiles_ were very famous among everybody.”

Cristina rarely spoke of her life back in Mexico City, and she almost never mentioned anyone other than her mom. Emma didn’t know who Diego was, but it was the third time she’d heard his name and whenever Cristina spoke of him it was along the lines of Diego doing something amazing.

Emma didn’t like him, because she could tell it was hard for Cristina to talk about him, and whatever the reason for that was Emma guessed it wasn’t good.

Before she could say anything Cristina was already sliding a plate in front of her, and the sight of the tortillas topped with cheese and chili peppers made Emma’s mouth water.

“ _Buen provecho_ ,” Cristina said with a very pleased smile as she retrieved a plate of her own and sat down.

Emma loved Julian, she really did, but he would never be on Cristina’s level now.

“Holy mother of—Cristina I think you just changed my life.”

“You are very welcome.”

When Emma began to feel the bite of the spicy chilies, Cristina laughed at her, and when Emma complained Cristina only laughed harder.

“You’re weak,” she said between chuckles.

“You know, if you were any other person I would have to kill you for saying that,” Emma said, slowly getting used to the burning in her mouth, it was almost pleasant now. “But since it’s you, I’ll let it slide.”

* * *

_5._

“Emma, wake up.”

She opened her eyes softly and groaned, her entire body screaming in pain, her neck and back stiff. Emma felt like an old lady when she looked up and heard a few of her joints cracking.

She had fallen asleep on Diana’s lesson room, and panic quickly shot through her veins. _Oh no_. She fell asleep during a lesson. Diana was going to kill her—

“Emma.”

There was a hand shaking her shoulder, but it wasn’t Diana’s.

“Cristina,” Emma mumbled. “What time it is?”

“Early,” Cristina said calmly. “Sit, Diana will be here soon and she will _kill_ you if she sees you like this.”

How come Cristina always knew her thoughts so well? They haven’t known each other for that long, was she really that predictable?

“Here.” Cristina dropped a chocolate bar on Emma’s study table. “You need it.”

Emma blinked and rubbed her eyes before sitting upright on the chair. She stared at the chocolate, perplexed, and then at Cristina. “What’s the occasion?”

“You tell me. When I came here I found you in this state, what happened to you?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Emma said. “So I went to train... Until three am.”

“Oh dear.” Cristina shook her head, but she was smiling, the fact that she was already getting used to Emma’s shenanigans was amusing and a little endearing. “Eat your chocolate, Emma.”

And the fact that Cristina knew Emma only got her caffeine doses from chocolate bars was also amusing and a lot more endearing. It was nice having someone who knew these little things about you, Emma always thought Julian would be the only one.

“I don’t know how I ended up here,” Emma said through a mouthful of chocolate. “I think I may have been sleepwalking.”

“Who was sleepwalking?” Diana asked as she stepped into the room. Emma sat even more upright, and she blinked as if to make herself seem more awake than she actually was.

“We watched a movie last night,” Cristina said for her. “We were just talking about it.”

“I didn’t know you enjoyed mundane movies, Cristina,” Diana said thoughtfully, her attention wasn’t on Emma anymore, and as Cristina continued her lie Emma couldn’t help but think how nice it was when someone had your back like this.

Someone who wasn’t Julian.

Emma found the thought both terrifying and exhilarating.

* * *

_6._

“Tell me how it’s like having a _Parabatai_. I can tell you miss him deeply.”

Emma exhaled, relieved to let out some of the weight.

* * *

_7._

“I once fought these demons in San Miguel de Allende,” Cristina was saying. “It’s best if you stab them instead of cutting or—”

She was stopped mid-sentence. Emma didn’t even have time to grab Cortana, the massive demon collapsed in front of them, dropping from the roof of the sewers, splashing all sorts of disgusting water in every direction. It swept one of its tentacles aside in the same second it hit the ground.

Cristina yelped as the sticky tentacle hit her directly on the side and sent her flying. Emma screamed her name and reached for Cortana. The demon had the upper hand simply because of the element of surprise, and it wrapped another of its tentacle around Emma’s waist, lifting her off the ground.

“Gross.” Emma struggled and was about to bring Cortana down to slice the tentacle when something stopped her, instead, she jammed the blade against the demon, sinking deep enough the hilt hit its slimy chest. Emma grimaced as thick ichor spilled from the wound and ran down her hand and wrist.

The demon twitched and threw her across the room, Emma held onto Cortana and ripped the blade free with the impulse. Unfortunately, she hit the ground and rolled in the disgusting water a few times before she came to a stop.

“Aw gross,” she grunted, but she stayed there, listening to the bone-rattling screech of the creature. Emma pushed through the pain in her bones and the choking stink and got to her feet. The demon screeched some more before it went back to whatever hellish dimension it had crawled out of.

She immediately turned around to look at Cristina, who was sitting down on the stone floor and holding a hand to the side of her head, but she looked unharmed—naturally, she had fallen on one of the few places that weren’t covered in gross water.

“Nice advice,” Emma said, confident she was never going to get the smell out of her hair.

“Nice sword trick.”

* * *

_8._

Emma always considered herself as someone with impeccable balance. She had trained hard enough she felt the thought was well deserved.

However, when you were running around the cliffs of Leo Carrillo chasing a rogue vampire during a storm, it was easy to lose your footing.

The rocks were uneven and slippery with the rain, and Emma cursed as she maneuvered from one edge to another, careful to keep her eyes on her target and her feet on the ground, which was proving difficult. Below her, the ocean crashed and broke violently against the shore, the clear waters were now restless and gray and threatening.

Lightning rippled the sky, and Emma missed a rock by mere millimeters.

The vampire turned his head back and laughed.

Emma cursed and felt the world spinning, she saw herself falling off the cliff, spiraling helplessly towards certain death on the sharp rocks sticking out of the ocean, deadly blades that would pierce her like she was nothing but the frailest of papers. A cold fear washed over her in that same second as she caught glimpses of the ocean, wild and untamed and ready to swallow her whole.

Just as it had swallowed her parents.

Except that she never fell.

A balance rune burned on her left arm, and she stumbled forward instead of backward, and somehow her body used the momentum to lunge ahead to another rock.

As she continued her chase, she silently thanked Cristina and her excellent hands with runes.

* * *

_9._

“Emma, if you put that much hot sauce in it you’ll die. And no, this is not a challenge.”

* * *

_10._

“Hey Cristina do you want to—Oops, sorry.”

Cristina was kneeling in the middle of the room, holding her medallion tightly in her hands, eyes closed as she whispered her prayers, but she looked up and smiled at Emma as soon as she came through the door. “Don’t worry, I was just finishing. What is it?”

For some strange reason, Emma felt the words die in her mouth. She felt like an intruder. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, really.”

Cristina stood up, brushing inexistent dust from her sweatpants. How Cristina managed to look so neat even wearing pajamas was still a mystery to Emma. “Its fine Emma, stop looking like you caught me in the middle of a sacrificial ritual.”

“You do those things?”

Cristina smiled. “Yes, all the time. We pour the blood of innocents on altars while we chant our prayers, its tradition back in Mexico, I’ll show you someday.”

“No thank you,” Emma said, raising up her hands, though she couldn’t stifle her chuckles. “For someone who’s always so proper, you crack the weirdest jokes sometimes.”

“I’m not as boring as you think I am,” Cristina huffed, brushing hair out of her face.

“I’m sure you’re not.” Emma grinned, but she didn’t say that she didn’t think Cristina was boring at all, if anything, she may be the most interesting person Emma had met in a while. “I was going to ask, do you want to watch a movie with me?”

“Any special occasion?”

“Not really,” Emma said, not willing to admit that she’d been feeling extra lonely today. Having Cristina around was nice—was _great_ actually—but the absence of the Blackthorns was still something she felt deeply every day, the Institute was just too quiet. “Just say yes, I bought ice cream and everything.”

Cristina’s eyes narrowed. “What ice cream?”

“Rocky road,” Emma said. “Your favorite?”

“That’s _your_ favorite.”

“Busted.”

But even as she shook her head in amusement, Cristina still looped their arms together and she leaned against Emma as they walked outside the bedroom. But not the way you lean against someone when you’re tired and stumbling, and not the way you lean against someone when you’re hurt and need support, but rather, Cristina leaned against Emma just for the sake of it.

Emma’s heart leaped, and she wasn’t sure why, exactly.

“What’s your favorite ice cream, Cristina?”

“Strawberry,” Cristina said. “Why?”

Emma shrugged. “I’ll get that one, next time.”

“There may not be a next time,” Cristina said, and this time Emma’s heart sunk, “if you make me watch one of those horribly corny movies again.”

Emma couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her, natural and easy, much like being with Cristina felt like. “Alright, sorry, I’ll let you pick this time, and next time, if you want.”

Cristina smiled, leaning her head against Emma’s shoulder. “Seems like we have a deal.”

* * *

_11._

“Emma, why are you lying on the floor like that?”

“I’m pathetic, Cristina, don’t even look at me, laying eyes upon me will bring shame to your family.”

Cristina rolled her eyes, she was leaning over Emma, and her dark hair fell around the sides of her face in the prettiest of ways. Emma wanted to run her fingers through it, but she didn’t know exactly why.

“What happened this time?” Cristina asked, hands on her hips.

“I fell from the rafters,” Emma said, pointing up. “And I think I broke something.”

Cristina gasped, and she suddenly disappeared from Emma’s line of vision. Just a few seconds after, she was kneeling beside Emma, a stele in her hand, lips pursed in what was clearly a disapproving expression. “Emma, how _long_ have you been lying on the floor like that?”

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. “I stopped feeling the pain a while ago, so probably a long time.”

Cristina shook her head, and Emma felt fingers trailing up from her ankle and up to her leg, the tight and thin fabric of the training gear made Emma very aware of Cristina’s fingertips against her. “I don’t think anything is broken, Emma.”

“My pride is.”

“ _Díos mío,_ ” Cristina muttered. “Stop being dramatic and get up, you scared me half to death.”

“I never fall from the rafters,” Emma said, finally sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “The last time it happened I was thirteen. _Thirteen._ Am I growing old? Soon enough I won’t be able to hold a sword, and I’ll have to retire from being a Shadowhunter.”

 Despite the ridiculous tone in her voice, Cristina didn’t laugh, instead, she just patted Emma’s shoulder with sympathetic eyes. “You just got distracted, I know you’ve been thinking about the Blackthorns again.”

“I—” Emma frowned. No one ever took her stupid jokes that seriously, but then again, no one ever saw the true concerns Emma tried to hide behind those stupid jokes. “How do you know?”

“I pay attention to you, _cuata,_ ” Cristina said with her kind smile and kind eyes. Her entire presence was kind, and it made Emma feel incredibly warm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Emma pursed her lips.

“Or—” Cristina continued. “Do you want me to go to the rafters with you? I bet I can beat you when it comes to jumping.”

“Ha!” Emma laughed, now springing to her feet. “In your dreams, Rosales.”

* * *

_12._

“Did you just throw a _chair_ at that demon?” Emma asked, mouth hanging open.

Cristina, standing tall with her Shadowhunter gear, just shrugged. “There was nothing else at hand, you’re welcome by the way.”

Emma stared at the remains of the demon, tangled with the splinters and broken bits of the chair, and then back at Cristina. “I’ve never seen something so badass in my entire life, Cristina.”

* * *

_13._

“Are you glad you came to Los Angeles now?”

Cristina didn’t look up from her scrubbing of the floor. “I used to be.”

Emma sighed, leaning against her broom. “I’m sorry, Tina, I asked you to lie for me and somehow Diana found out and now—”

“Emma,” Cristina said, finally looking up, but her voice hadn’t lost that casual tone. “Diana didn’t _somehow_ find out. _I_ told her you were going after those vampires all by yourself.”

“What?” Emma nearly dropped the broom. “Why?”

“Because you were going after those vampires all by yourself.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“Maybe,” Cristina said. “Or maybe not. Can you blame me for not wanting to take that risk? If you had just asked me to go with you instead of texting me while you were already there then maybe we wouldn’t be cleaning the training room right now.”

“Why are _you_ cleaning the training room?” Emma asked, trying very hard to keep the indignation out of her voice, though she could tell she wasn’t very successful. “You told Diana the truth, why is she making you do this?”

“Because I asked her to,” Cristina said softly, turning away from Emma again, and she didn’t see the way Emma froze, the way her breath caught in her throat for some reason she didn’t know. “I didn’t want you to be alone here.”

“Cristina—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Cristina said, and there was amusement on her tone now, and Emma could see just the edge of a smile from where she was standing. “It was just because you probably wouldn’t get anything done on your own.”

Emma threw her a sponge.

* * *

_14._

The only thing that kept Emma from plummeting down to the ocean was Cristina’s firm grip around her wrist.

Her heart battered loudly against her ears, almost drowning the sounds of the wind and the waves beneath her. Emma swallowed, holding onto Cristina as she fought to keep down the panic rising on her chest. There was only the ocean below, black and icy and unknown, offering only death and suffering, hiding the demons that Emma saw so clearly on her worst nightmares. And above her was nothing but the open night sky, starless and cloudless.

And Cristina.

“Emma,” Cristina grunted, her teeth bared as she clenched her jaw with effort.

The fear of getting lost on the ocean was so strong it made Emma tremble; she wanted to scream and struggle, she wanted to cry out, but instead, she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. She was a Shadowhunter, she shouldn’t be scared like this.

She used her dangling feet to try and find some support against the rocky cliffs and heard Cristina grunting again. Emma thought her arm was going to pop out of its socket, and all of her body was screaming in agony, but she pushed on, sheathing Cortana on her back so she could grip at Cristina’s arm with her other hand.

And once she nodded, Cristina started pulling her up. They both cried out, and Emma’s feet scrapped unhelpfully against the rocks as she was brought up.

Once she could grasp the edge of the cliff she sighed, and dug her fingernails into the stone, trying to give Cristina some relief. Eventually, Emma rolled to her side and her body landed on firm land, her heart still hammering loudly, her ears still ringing from the wind, her mouth still dry from the constant gasps.

She stayed on the ground for what felt like a long time, Cortana’s sheath digging painfully between her shoulderblades, but she didn’t dare move just yet, feeling that any type of movement would send her flying towards certain death again.

Cristina lay beside her, panting and holding her medallion with both hands. She had a wild look in her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe they actually did it, and her skin was unusually pale with fear.

“Thank you,” Emma said, placing a hand above Cristina’s on her medallion, and she felt the rapidness of Cristina’s pulse through the touch.

“Oh Emma, you scared me!” Cristina said, her voice breaking several times, and she threw herself at Emma’s side in a weird hug where her face was buried on Emma’s neck and her arm was wrapped around Emma’s waist with a strange type of fierceness.

Emma blinked for a moment, staring up at the night sky and feeling Cristina’s warm breath against her skin, her bones were sore and her arm was throbbing and panic was still fresh on her tongue, but she allowed herself a moment to revel in being hugged so eagerly. “You saved my life,” Emma whispered, gripping the arm that held her with shaky fingers; she still couldn’t erase the feeling of being so helpless.

Cristina was silent, and she didn’t move at all. Emma didn’t either, because even though she had felt helpless, she had trusted Cristina in a way she’d only trusted one person before, and she couldn’t fight the wave of affection that swelled on her chest.

Emma never liked being protected like that, except when it came to Julian, but now she couldn’t help but think that she was grateful for Cristina in a way she’d never been grateful before.

* * *

_15._

 Emma stumbled through the heavy doors of the Institute, aware that she was dripping ichor and blood and mud on the perfectly polished floors, but she was too tired to care. She’d placed _Iratzes_ on her skin, but they were doing little to calm the deep ache she felt everywhere in her body.

At this point she didn’t even know _where_ she was hurt.

She forced herself to drag her feet out of the foyer and to the stairs, and maybe she almost tripped several times and maybe she got even more ichor and blood and mud everywhere but her eyelids were heavy and her muscles were burning and she was pretty sure she was going to split in half at any second.

But before she could even set foot on the first step of the stairs, she noticed someone sitting on one of the uncomfortable couches they kept on the foyer, more for decoration than anything else.

Cristina.

Emma recognized her silhouette even in the dark.

But the fact that Cristina hadn’t even noticed her was odd, and so Emma took a step forward, stumbling again, and she blinked to get rid of the dark spots that danced on the edges of her vision. Cristina’s head was softly tilted to a side, her lips slightly parted, her eyes closed.

She was sleeping.

She’d fallen asleep—while waiting for Emma to come home from her mission.

Perhaps it was a combination of the late night hours and the pain and the sheer exhaustion and all the love she had for Cristina, but Emma felt tears forming in her eyes.

As if sensing someone was watching her, Cristina blinked and licked her lips as she woke up, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Emma just stared, swaying lightly on her feet because she couldn’t command her body to stay still, and Cristina’s eyes quickly fell on her.

“Emma!” She gasped, jumping to her feet, her sleep forgotten.

As soon as Cristina reached her, Emma collapsed.

“By the Angel,” Cristina said softly, holding Emma’s weight with ease, supporting her with steady hands. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Emma mumbled. “Yes. I don’t know.”

Cristina wrapped one of Emma’s arms around her neck and didn’t even flinch when Emma basically broke down like a house of cards against her. Emma couldn’t help but notice that she was staining Cristina’s clothes, the gray pajamas now dirty with ichor and blood and mud. Cristina still looked beautiful.

She was so enthralled with her own tiredness and with staring at Cristina’s face—her _beautiful_ face—that she didn’t notice when they went up the stairs. It was as if she was moving automatically, like a robot, and Cristina was everything that kept her on her feet.

They reached the infirmary soon, and Cristina helped Emma sit down on one of the beds and helped her take off her gear jacket and helped her peel off the stained clothes. Emma let her do all of that, even though she would never let anyone but Julian help her after a battle.

But Cristina wasn’t Julian, and Emma was very aware of that. Perhaps that was why Emma felt suddenly nervous about Cristina’s soft hands working on her, because she wasn’t Julian, and her touch was different yet somehow soothing.

She was terrified, because she didn’t know what that meant.

She felt she and Cristina were close already, very close even, but Emma was always reminded of the fact that she didn’t truly _know_ her; she didn’t even know why she’d come to Los Angeles so desperately. There were so many things about Cristina she didn’t know.

Cristina took a hold of Emma’s arm and drew a perfect blood replacement rune, leaning too close to Emma so she could see in the dark, the only light in the room came in from the moonlight spilling through the windows and from the tip of the stele, and Emma found herself entranced again as she stared at Cristina.

Julian always got mad because of Emma’s recklessness, it came from his worry, so Emma didn’t mind. But Cristina never got mad, frustrated sure, exasperated definitely, but not mad, and yet Emma didn’t doubt for a second that Cristina worried about her the same way Julian did.

“Emma, say something,” Cristina said softly, rubbing her thumb over the newly applied rune. Her eyes were impossibly dark, but they were far from empty, they held a tenderness and concern that made Emma’s chest tighten.

“I—Thank you.”

Cristina pressed a wet cloth to Emma’s face, getting rid of a chunk of dirt and dry blood, and her free hand rested below Emma’s chin, her fingers brushing lightly against the pulse point. “Of course. I don’t even know how I fell asleep in the first place, I spent hours lying awake on my bed until I just decided to wait for you downstairs.”

“You couldn’t sleep—because of me?” Emma asked, feeling a little tongue-tied.

 “Of course I couldn’t,” Cristina said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She put the cloth away and stared at Emma once again. “I was tempted to go looking for you, you know, I think I would’ve if I hadn’t fallen asleep.”

Emma sighed, and she rested her forehead against Cristina’s shoulder and sighed again. She was just so tired. “You’re too good to me, Tina.”

Cristina rubbed circles on Emma’s back, the touch calming and comforting and warm and it made Emma’s head spin even more. She wasn’t wearing anything other than the tight underwear that went under the gear, but Cristina didn’t seem to mind that at all.

Why would she, after all?

“Get some rest, Emma, I think you’re too tired to walk back to your room.”

_Stay with me._ Emma wanted to say, but she couldn’t find any strength to let the words out.

She let Cristina push her softly until she was lying on the infirmary’s bed, and she closed her eyes and exhaled as her entire body relaxed in just seconds.

Emma didn’t see Cristina leave, but she still felt a slight disappointment.

* * *

_16._

Summer had gone by faster than Emma expected.

It was easy to lose track of time now that she spent so much of that time around Cristina.

Cristina who was witty in her own way and extremely smart, Cristina who was always so kind and polite, who hated breaking rules but had gotten used to Emma breaking them all the time. Cristina who listened to her no matter what stupid thing popped out of her mouth. Cristina who had the most beautiful laugh Emma had ever heard.

Cristina who Emma had a major crush on.

And it was _bad._ Emma caught herself blushing whenever Cristina even glanced at her too long. _Blushing._ Emma Carstairs did not blush. For anyone.

Anyone except Cristina.

It terrified her, knowing what she was feeling but also knowing she could never do anything about it. If Emma got a dollar every time Cristina called her her friend then she would have a lot of money by now.

That wasn’t bothering, really, just a little frustrating. She was content with just being Cristina’s friend, if that was what she wanted, but she _needed_ to get rid of this stupid crush, because she couldn’t deal with the way her heart fluttered whenever Cristina smiled or the way her fingers twitched every time Cristina brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Because Emma wanted to kiss that smile, and she wanted to be the one brushing hair behind Cristina’s ear.

And she knew she shouldn’t want those things. This was dangerous territory. She couldn’t have a crush on a girl that just saw her as a friend, what was she even _thinking?_

“Sorry, I fell asleep,” Cristina mumbled, shifting from her back to her side and curling one of the cushions under her head. “How did the movie end?”

Emma didn’t know either, but not because she fell asleep, but because she had spent the last fifteen minutes staring at Cristina sleeping next to her.

They had opened the couch so it could be used as a bed, as they’d done dozens of time whenever they stayed up late at night watching movies, and at first Emma hadn’t thought much about it, but now that she was all too aware of the effect Cristina had on her, she couldn’t stop thinking this hadn’t been the best of ideas.

“It was a boring end anyways,” Emma said, watching Cristina nod weakly while her eyes were still closed. It wouldn’t be the first time they fell asleep there as the credits rolled on the screen, but Emma felt an inexplicable need to get up and go to her own bedroom.

She didn’t move though, and a few minutes passed before Cristina’s breathing settled again.

The TV screen went black, and Emma was left in complete darkness, sharing a bed with the girl she liked.

_Great._

She settled back on her own cushions, resisting the urge to groan in frustration, she didn’t want to wake Cristina, and it’d be an embarrassing thing to explain in the first place.

Emma rolled to her side as carefully as she could, she and Cristina were face to face, but there was still some space between them. Emma sighed, tracing with her eyes the lines of Cristina’s face, the edge of her jawline, the gentle curve of her nose, the pretty way her lips were always parted just slightly when she slept.

_Don’t stare at her lips. Dangerous._ Emma thought, feeling heat rising to her cheeks, and she snapped her eyes shut. _You’re a weirdo, Emma Carstairs._

Emma yawned. Tomorrow she planned to go to the Shadow Market to see Johnny Rook, she was hoping he’d have some answers for her in regards of the piece of clothing she gave him last week. It took Emma a long time of bribing and an even longer time of threatening to get it, but it was worth it, because it was a piece of her mother’s shirt, the shirt she was wearing when she was killed.

Cristina clearly wouldn’t approve, that’s why Emma never got into details about what she was doing. She’d told Cristina about her parents, and how she didn’t think they died the way the Clave claimed, but she hadn’t been specific in the why. She hadn’t even shown Cristina her “Wall of Crazy”. No one but Julian had seen that, and it terrified Emma to think of how Cristina would react.

Something inside of her yearned to tell her, to let everything out, to feel the relief that came from not having to hide that part of herself—a part she wasn’t particularly proud of. But Emma still hesitated to even think about it; she may like Cristina— _really, really_ like her—but this was a delicate topic, more delicate than anything else in Emma’s life.

She’d been thinking about it often—how it would feel to be completely honest with Cristina, and the more she thought about it the more she convinced herself Cristina would offer nothing but unconditional support and understanding. She always did.

Maybe Emma would tell her soon. It scared her, but it also excited her; she found that she wanted Cristina to know, she wanted to trust her with this.

Emma yawned again, opening her eyes just slightly, almost as if she wanted to make sure Cristina was still there. She was still there, still asleep, and still as beautiful as ever. Emma would trust her with anything.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Cristina,” Emma said very softly, barely a whisper, and the drowsiness of the night gave her enough courage to brush a strand of hair out of Cristina’s face, gently, as gently as she could.

She fell asleep craving to hold Cristina’s hand.

* * *

_Bonus: That one time Emma saved Cristina’s life, but summer was over._

“We look ridiculous,” Cristina said, though her voice was tired and muffled with pain.

“Really? I think we look dashing,” Emma said, carefully stepping sideways through the door so she wouldn’t hit Cristina’s leg.

The gesture was small, and it was more common sense than anything else, but it still made Cristina smile. “You could’ve let me walk, there was no reason for you to carry me like a damsel in distress.”

“Well you _were_ in distress, weren’t you?”

“Hardly in distress,” Cristina said indignantly. She curled her fingers on the back of Emma’s shirt for a second before Emma put her down on one of the beds in the infirmary, and she found herself missing their contact, even if it came from being on such a ridiculous pose.

“Mhm, I’m beginning to think you just don’t want me to be your dashing knight in shining armor, and frankly, I’m quite hurt, Cristina.” Emma sat down on the bed as she placed Cortana against the nightstand, and then she searched on her belt for a stele.

“We almost die at least five times tonight,” Cristina said, keeping her eyes in the ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at Emma tracing an _Iratze_ on the exposed skin of her stomach, there where her gear had ripped just slightly. _She could’ve just placed it on my arm,_ Cristina thought, fighting down a blush. “Is this really the time for jokes?”

“There’s always a time for jokes,” Emma said. “Especially after a small army surrounded the Institute and committed murder at our doorstep.”

Cristina sighed, she was too tired to come back with any funny remark.

“Sorry, that was too much,” said Emma, finishing up the rune. Immediately, Cristina felt the cold relief that came from it, and the pain in her leg started to disappear. “Do you want to talk about something else though—maybe Perfect Diego?”

“Don’t,” Cristina said quickly. “I don’t want to talk about him, I don’t even want to think about him.”

Emma raised her hands. “Alright, sorry again. I just thought—you looked pretty affected when he showed up.”

Cristina thought she heard something strange in Emma’s voice, a sort of—bitterness. Was she really that concerned for her? She looked up at Emma, arching an eyebrow. “Well he _did_ appear out of nowhere, and I have nothing to say to him.”

“Alright,” Emma said again, shrugging. “That’s good. I don’t like him.”

Cristina smiled. “You don’t know him.”

And Emma shrugged again. “Don’t have to. How’s your leg feeling?”

“Good. We’re meeting with everyone else, right? To talk about what happened today?”

Emma bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Julian said he has something important to tell me and Mark first though, so you can rest for a bit while I go talk to him.”

“Something important?”

“Apparently,” Emma said. “I don’t know, he seemed—very serious. Whatever it is, is something big.”

“Something big,” Cristina hummed. “But why didn’t you go talk to him after the fight? My leg wasn't really that bad, I could've handled myself."

“I have no doubt you could’ve,” Emma said. “But I wanted to be here for you, Tina, and I thought you may want to talk about Diego and—I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

Cristina blinked, it was hard to believe Emma would stall a conversation about “something big” with Julian—her _Parabatai—_ just to be with her. And yet, Emma was still sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair sticking out of her braids and her face stained with just a bit of blood, and she was looking at Cristina like she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“That’s kind of you,” Cristina said, sitting up on the bed, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the wariness. “Thank you.”

Emma reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. Cristina felt the touch _everywhere,_ and she stared at their joined hands for several seconds before she could process that it was a very normal, very casual thing to do. “I’m here for you, Cristina, you know that.”

“Of course,” Cristina said. “Your hand is bleeding.”

“Oh,” Emma said, looking down as well. There was blood on her knuckles, and Emma stared at it for some time, her expression unreadable. Cristina reached for the stele she’d been using before and turned Emma’s wrist upwards. “Cristina—” Emma stopped suddenly, as if she had choked on the word, and Cristina looked up, frowning, she hadn’t even started the _Iratze._

“What?”

Emma was staring at her with too much intensity, the weight of her gaze left Cristina breathless, she felt as if Emma was looking for something, and she wasn’t sure if she could give it to her. “Nothing,” Emma said finally, her voice thin and frail like a silk cord, and it tugged at Cristina’s heart. For some reason, she sounded disappointed. Whatever she was looking for in Cristina’s eyes, she hadn’t found it.

“Emma, you know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.” Emma shook her head. “I think this is the only thing you wouldn’t understand.”

Cristina knew that feeling all too well. “I guarantee you, I would understand.” She chuckled. “You could tell me you’re secretly a serial killer and I would understand, because I know you Emma, and I know whatever it is you can’t tell me is probably not as horrible as you think.”

Cristina had expected Emma to refuse again, and that would've been the end of the discussion, because Cristina would never push Emma to tell her something she didn’t want to tell her. She had also expected, though in smaller quantities, that Emma would actually tell her what was bothering her.

However, she had not expected Emma to kiss her.

The kiss was sudden and unexpected, just like falling in love with Emma Carstairs had been.

Cristina gasped slightly, but she responded immediately, grasping Emma’s shoulders as if she needed to steady herself. Emma also gasped, though Cristina suspected it was because she was surprised Cristina was kissing her back at all.

And kissing Emma was in so many ways just like she had imagined, but in so many ways much better than that. She still smelled of sweat and metal and blood, and she tasted like that too, but Cristina could push all of that aside in favor of the softness of Emma’s lips against her own, the tenderness of a shy hand on the side of her face.

It almost seemed as if Emma was hesitant, and the thought almost made Cristina melt.

Emma—who was never hesitant about anything, who was always the first to jump into danger with her eyes closed—was shy about kissing _her_. It was ridiculous to even consider, yet it was happening.

“What?” Emma asked, pulling back when she felt Cristina smiling. “Why are you laughing?”

“Emma you’re—” Cristina shook her head, not really knowing how to say what was on her head.

Instead, she curled her fingers on Emma’s shirt and pulled her in for another kiss, and in the end, they really didn’t need the words anyways.


End file.
